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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29304939">You Can Be King (Again)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliechick117/pseuds/charliechick117'>charliechick117</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Battle of Five Armies - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Comfort, Gold Sickness (Tolkien), Implied Dwalin/Ori, M/M, Post-Canon, Rebuilding Erebor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:54:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29304939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliechick117/pseuds/charliechick117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin took the throne of Erebor when there was none.  He inherited the title of King Under the Mountain when there was no mountain.  It took time for Thorin to get used to being a king with no kingdom, but he was determined to see Erebor reclaimed.</p><p>But after the reclamation, after the gold madness, how could Thorin claim his title of King?  After all he had done in the midst of the gold sickness, Thorin didn't feel much like a king anymore.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The First Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*kicks the door down*<br/>HERE WE GO AGAIN.</p><p>Based on and inspired by the song "King" by Laruen Aquilina which was definitely written about Thorin.  I got super attached to the idea of Thorin thinking he's not worthy of the crown after the events that took place while he was gold mad.</p><p>It's pretty much a 5+1 fic about how many times Thorin was told he was a king and the one time he believed it.  Only it's WAY more than just 5 times.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thorin didn’t take to kingship easily.  Not even king when Erebor was sacked, Thorin spent much of his time from Erebor to Ered Luin feeling like a disgraced prince.  He led his people to peace and prosperity.  He carved a new life for them in the Blue Mountains.  He was called ‘king’ and ‘sire’ in equal measure.</p><p>But he didn’t feel like a king.  He had no throne, no crown, no court.  He may have the title as King Under the Mountain but he never felt like he had the bearing.  It took several years after Thror’s death and Thrain’s disappearance for Thorin to come to terms with his claim to the throne and even now, decades later, it still felt strange to him.</p><p>Thorin knew he had the loyalty of his subjects but what good was their loyalty without a kingdom?</p><p>And so, the quest began.</p><p>By the time Thorin gathered his team of thirteen to reclaim Erebor, he had grown comfortable with his title as king.  Certainly, it still left him nervous and he still felt adrift as a king with no kingdom, but he knew his place.  Had he not brought his people to safety?  Had he not led them, thousands of them, across Middle-Earth?  Had he not proved himself, ten times over, that he was King of Erebor?</p><p>Now, it was time to do something.  To prove (to himself at least) that he was still worthy of the crown of his forefathers.</p><p>It was Balin, his oldest and wisest friend, who first reassured Thorin of his kingship.</p><p>“There was one I could follow,” he said.  “There was one I could call king.”</p><p>Thorin looked around at the assembled company, thirteen dwarves, one hobbit, and a wizard, and felt the reverence of their gaze upon him.  The weight of his kingdom felt heavy on his shoulders, but he knew, beyond doubt, that this company recognized him as king.  It was both awe inspiring and humbling at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>Throughout the course of the quest for Erebor, Thorin continued to prove his worth as king.  He led the company from danger to danger with an increasingly tight window to sneak underneath Smaug’s nose.</p><p>It was in the middle of Laketown, with Durin’s Day fast approaching, that Dwalin stepped forward to proclaim Thorin as king.  There was no mistaking the honor in Dwalin’s voice, or the reverence and pride.  Dwalin, who had watched Thorin grow into the crown prince.  Dwalin, who’s loyalty was as fierce as a mother warg.</p><p>Dwalin, who took back his words mere days later.</p><p>“You stand there, with a crown upon your head,” Dwalin said slowly, somberly, as if Thorin was dead, “and you are lesser now than you were.  You have always been my king.  You knew that once.”</p><p>Anger and betrayal bubbled inside Thorin.  Twisted and marred in his mind by the gold sickness.  He retreated.  Crawled deep into his mind and deeper into the mountain.  Dwalin’s words echoed with him, as did Bilbo’s.  His company, his loyal thirteen, obedient to a fault, waiting at the barred entrance.</p><p>Was Thorin still a king?  Did the crown and jewels make him king?  Did <em>Erebor </em>make him king?  Or had he been a king all along, with no kingdom or crown.  Balin and Dwalin believe Thorin as king, even disgraced as he had been.</p><p>But did a king hide away in his castle walls, watching others die in his place?  Had Thorin ever stayed behind in battle, letting others risk their lives for his sake?</p><p>No.  Thorin would never stoop to such a cowardly level as that.  He was Thorin Oakenshield of the line of Durin.  He was the king of Erebor.  He always stood his ground and protected his people.</p><p>That Thorin would never hide away from battle  That Thorin wasn’t a king.</p><p>But this Thorin, chucking off the crown and casting off the heavy cloak, <em>this </em>Thorin was a king.</p><p>It was about time he acted like it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Reassurance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thorin woke up slowly, mind fuzzy and eyes gummed closed.  As he drifted into consciousness, his body started to ache with pain.  His arms and legs ached like they usually did after a long campaign.  He could feel his left eye was swollen and his lips were cracked and bleeding.  Then, all at once, something in his chest felt like fire.</p><p>He gasped with pain and forced his eyes open.  Blinded for a moment, Thorin blinked until the fuzzy room became clear.  He was in a small chamber with familiar stone walls.  A table was next to his bed with a pitcher of water and a small mug.  There was an armchair opposite his bed with a stack of books to the side and absolutely no one else.  Thorin knew this room – it was the king’s private healing ward.</p><p>Bracing himself, Thorin looked down.  Wrapped around his chest was a large bandage, slowly staining the linen red.  Both his arms were scarred but, thankfully, the other injuries seemed superficial.  He was mostly tired and achy though it hurt to breathe too deeply.</p><p>The door opened and Oin, bless him, bustled in with fresh bandages.  He raised an eyebrow at Thorin but didn’t say anything until he was next to Thorin’s bedside.</p><p>“Morning, you majesty,” Oin said.  “Didn’t think you’d wake up.”</p><p>Thorin tried to speak but his throat was parched.  He coughed, coppery blood dripping down his chin, and Oin shook his head as he wiped up the blood.  He poured the water and helped Thorin take a few sips.  Thorin’s hands were shaking terribly.</p><p>“How long?” Thorin rasped.</p><p>“Nearly a week,” Oin said as he quickly changed Thorin’s bandages.  “But it’s alright.  Dain’s been taking care of business for you while you’ve been recovering.  As soon as you’re healthy, we’ll have the coronation and Dain will be back off to the Iron Hills.’</p><p>“No,” Thorin shook his head.  “There won’t be a coronation.”</p><p>Oin paused.  “And why not?”</p><p>“I’m not worthy to be king,” Thorin said.</p><p>“Oh, that’s a load of rubbish,” Oin scoffed.  “You came back to us, at the end.  You led us to victory!  You rallied the dwarves and killed Azog.  Thorin, you reclaimed your kingdom, what makes you feel unworthy to rule it?”</p><p>Oin tied off the bandage and pulled the blankets up around Thorin’s chest.</p><p>“You’re still our king, Thorin,” Oin said seriously.  “And you are a worthy king.”</p><p>Thorin wanted to protest.  If he was a worthy king then he would’ve cast off the gold sickness.  If he was worthy, he wouldn’t have broken his relationship with Bilbo.  If he was a king, a proper king, he would have honored old alliances instead of starting a futile war.  It hardly mattered that he came to clarity in the end.  One act of good did not undo all his mistakes.</p><p>He came to Erebor to prove his was worthy to be king, that he was not his grandfather, and yet he fell into those same traps.  Who was to say it couldn’t happen again?</p><p>Oin smiled gently and patted Thorin’s cheek.  Thorin tried to say something, to remind Oin of how far he had fallen, but his body was still weak and healing.  The bed was warm and soft and Thorin slipped into sleep without a chance to say anything.</p><p> </p><p>The restoration of Erebor was going smoothly.  Thorin, with his chest injury still hindering his breath, was forbidden from leaving his bed until Oin cleared him.  Luckily, his two nephews were much better off and didn’t hesitated to tell Thorin everything.</p><p>“Bofur’s bossing around everyone in the mines,” Kili said.  His leg was stretched out in front of him and Thorin tried not to stare too much at the thick stitches around his knee.  He was lucky to still have his leg.  “You wouldn’t believe it, Uncle.  I didn’t even know Bofur could shout!”</p><p>“What of the others?” Thorin asked, greedy for news of his company.  Other than Fili and Kili, Oin has banned anyone else from bothering Thorin during his recovery.  As much as Thorin desired to know what was happening in the mountain, what became of those brave dwarves who followed him even in the midst of his gold sickness, he was grateful to have the time to recuperate.  He wasn’t sure if he could face his company just yet.</p><p>“Everyone else is fantastic,” Fili said.  “Dain gave them all positions of standing during the reparations.  None of the Iron Hill dwarves doubt the authority of our company.  Bombur has been indispensable.  He’s been in charge of most of the repairs, especially in the throne room and treasure room.  He and Dori keep most everyone in line.”</p><p>Thorin nodded and pointedly didn’t ask Fili about his broken arm, still resting in a sling against his chest.  Part of his golden hair had been shaved to stitch up a large wound across his skull and staring at it too long left a bad taste in Thorin’s mouth.</p><p>“Ori has a whole team of scribes working on transcribing what works he managed to salvage from the library,” Kili said.  He raised his eyebrows conspiratorially at Fili.  “Although, I’m not sure how Ori managed to grab half those books since the library was entirely blocked off by a cave in.”</p><p>Fili laughed.  “I heard that Dwalin just cleared a cave in, against the best wishes of Bombur.  You don’t think that’s connected, do you?”</p><p>Thorin looked at his nephews, staring at their eyes instead of their injuries.  “They’ve been courting since we left Ered Luin, haven’t you boys noticed that?”</p><p>Fili and Kili turned to Thorin with betrayal in their eyes, grins dropping from their faces.  Thorin chuckled softly, so as not to aggravate his chest wound.  He had missed his nephews.  Though how either of them missed the obvious courting between Dwalin and Ori was beyond Thorin’s comprehension.</p><p>“Anyway,” Kili dragged out the word, “things are going really well, Uncle.  I think there are plans for the throne room to be finished within the next few months.  Dain insisted that it be in perfect condition for your coronation.  Apparently, Thranduil and Bard are planning to show up, if you can believe that!”</p><p>“They’re just hoping you’ll uphold your end of the bargain,” Fili supplied.  “Dain has… well… he’s done his best to soothe their bruised egos, but there’s only so much he can do, seeing as he’s not king.  For now, Bard and Thranduil will wait until the coronation before bringing any treaties to you.”</p><p>Thorin was shaking his head before Fili finished his sentence.  “I’m not fit to be king, Fili.  Let Dain continue to rule until you’re ready – then you will be king in my stead.”</p><p>The silence in the room was deafening.  Thorin stared down at his hands in his lap.  He had hoped to tell Fili his plan at a more appropriate time, but Fili was ready.  He would be a good king.  He never cared for the gold of Erebor, only for the love of his family.  He would withstand the gold sickness and lead Erebor into prosperity.</p><p>“Uncle, no,” Kili whispered.  “You… you <em>can’t</em>.”</p><p>“In the event the king is unfit to rule, his heir will take the crown,” Thorin said, reciting one of Erebor’s earliest history lesson.  “Boys, I cannot be king.  I succumbed to the gold madness.  I would have sacrificed all of you, and Dain and his dwarves, for gold.  Even though I overcame it, there’s no guarantee it’ll last.”</p><p>“But you’re the rightful king,” Fili said.  “You reclaimed Erebor.  Already the legends are spreading.  Thorin, they won’t accept me as king when it’s supposed to be you.”</p><p>Fili never said his name unless he was serious.  Thorin dragged his eyes up from staring at his hands.  He looked at Fili’s face set in determination.  He looked so much like his father.  Thorin spared a soft and sad smile for Fili, for his brave nephew who also knew the weight of a future kingdom.</p><p>“You always knew you’d be king of Erebor,” Thorin said.  “As did I.  Now, Fili, it is time for you to honor that oath and take up the crown as I am unworthy to wear it.”</p><p>“No,” Fili said and stood up.  “I won’t.”</p><p>Thorin turned to Kili, who was also standing, his eyes glittering with tears.</p><p>“Me neither,” Kili shook his head.  “You’re our king, Uncle.”</p><p>The two left in tandem, neither looking back at Thorin.</p><p>Well, they were young and naïve.  Thorin couldn’t blame them for the optimism of their youth.  He closed his eyes, settling into his bed, and tried not to think about how close he came to losing them both, how he sent them to their near deaths because of his pride.</p><p>Someone who sacrificed loved ones for gold was not worthy to be king.</p><p> </p><p>When Thorin slept, it was in fitful bursts.  Unconscious, his mind reminded him of how far he fell, how hard he failed.  He kept dreaming of Dain and his dwarves dying on the battlefield, defending a broken and damaged kingdom.  He dreamed of Fili and Kili, slaughtered by Azog, ending the line of Durin for good.  He dreamed of the betrayed faces of his company as they huddled together, whispering among themselves.  (Did they stay out of loyalty or of fear?)</p><p>He dreamed of Bilbo Baggins, eyes wide with fear, pulse jumping in his throat as Thorin pushed him over the battlements.  He dreamed of throwing Bilbo down in a fit of anger and betrayal.  He kept seeing Bilbo’s dead body on the ground, killed by Thorin’s own hands.</p><p>
  <em>It is worth all the blood we can spend.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Madness ran deep in his blood.  Throwing off the sickness once didn’t make Thorin immune.  With Erebor restored, Thorin couldn’t take the risk.  If the gold madness sank its claws into him as proper king of Erebor, the repercussions would be devastating.  He would never take that risk.</p><p>Oin had cleared him to leave his bedroom a few days ago and Thorin had taken to slowly walking around Erebor.  The dwarves all smiled at him, properly bowing their heads at his approach.  True to what his nephews said, the reparations were going well.  He could see where cave ins had been cleared.  New support beams had been placed in the mines and there was a small army of weavers working on new tapestries.  He spent an entire afternoon watching as a new set of doors were built, the workers happily carving new images into the relief.</p><p>They pictured the Arkenstone, Smaug, and Thorin himself, sword raised high over his head.</p><p>“That was my idea,” Dori said proudly as Thorin traced a finger over the carving.  “Erebor will not forget who led the reclamation.</p><p>“It’s beautiful,” Thorin said truthfully with misty eyes.  “I don’t deserve this.”</p><p>“Ah, yes,” Dori said with resignation.  “Oin worried me you’d be like this.”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Doubtful of your worth.”</p><p>Thorin tried very hard not to pout but he didn’t quite manage it.  Dori was a good dwarf, handsome, strong, protective, and respectful.  Having half-raised Ori, Dori was most adept at looking like a disappointed parent.  Thorin hadn’t felt the shame of being caught in the cookie jar in decades yet something about Dori’s put-upon sigh had him looking at his feet like an embarrassed child.</p><p>It certainly didn’t help that Dori had a giant gash over one eye that was bruised deep purple.  His hair, normally elaborately braided close to his skull, was loose around his head.  Fili had mentioned Dori had a mild concussion and tight braids gave him headaches.  Just another casualty in the battle, Thorin thought glumly.</p><p>“I don’t doubt that I led us to Erebor,” Thorin said slowly.  “I don’t doubt that I did everything in my power to reclaim my throne.”</p><p>“What do you doubt?”</p><p>“My willpower,” Thorin whispered.  “In Laketown, I left Kili behind because he would slow us down.  In the treasure room, I put my sword at Bilbo’s chest.  I almost killed Bilbo because he dared to do the right thing.  I barricaded us, doomed to starve, all for the gold.”</p><p>“But – ”</p><p>“I know, I came back.  I did what was right in the end, but what if it happens again?  That is a risk I cannot take, Dori.  For the good of the Kingdom, I cannot become King.  I cannot come that close to the gold, to be taken in by the madness.”</p><p>Dori grabbed Thorin by the shoulder and pulled him in for a hug.  Dori was stronger than anyone Thorin knew and it was pointless to try and pull away.  Instead, he sank into the hug.  He dug his hands into Dori’s broad back and buried his face into Dori’s shoulder.</p><p>“I’m sorry the doubt plagues you so much,” Dori said softly.  “But you are strong, Thorin Oakenshield, and I believe you’ll make the right decision.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Doubt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thorin heard Bofur long before he saw him.  Kili had been right – Bofur <em>could </em>shout.  Underneath his shouting and stern words, however, Thorin could still hear Bofur’s smile.  Even angry, Bofur was a force of cheeriness to be reckoned with.</p><p>“No, not like that, you daft fools!” Bofur shouted.  “Didn’t you listen to anything my genius brother said?  You dig that way and you’ll compromise the floor above!  Go left!”</p><p>“But there’s a gold vein that heads to the right!”</p><p>“Then you’ll wait until Bombur arrives and tells us how to support the shaft <em>before </em>we start digging.”</p><p>Thorin turned the corner.  He half expected to see Bofur leaning against the wall, drinking a beer, while the other miners did all the work, but Bofur was never like that.  He was standing at the head of the group, goofy hat perched jauntily on his head.</p><p>“Alright, are we ready this time, team?” Bofur said.  He took a deep breath, and Thorin recognized that breath as the one Bofur always took before breaking out into song.  It seemed the other miners knew it too because they all groaned.</p><p>Thorin loudly cleared his throat and the group of miners turned around.  Bofur brightened at the sight of Thorin and waved.</p><p>“Your majesty!” Bofur cheered.  “Come to check on the progress?”</p><p>“Just missed your lovely voice, Bofur,” Thorin grinned.  “How are things down here?”</p><p>“Oh, just peachy.  It’s nice being down in the stone again.”  Bofur worked his way through the crowd of dwarves until he was face to face with Thorin.  He turned and barked out an order and the dwarves went back to chatting and mining through the stone.  He grabbed Thorin’s arm and tugged him a few feet away, bowing his head close.  “Hey, how are you?  Dori mentioned you getting teary over the new front doors.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Thorin said.  He looked down and noticed Bofur’s leg was in a splint.  He shouldn’t be walking, much less working in the mine.  “Just checking in.”</p><p>“Ah, the pleasures of ruling,” Bofur nodded.  “Heavy is the crown, am I right?”</p><p>That was one of Thorin’s favorite thing about Bofur.  He never pushed when someone was upset, only did his best to comfort and distract.  He let Bofur chatter mindlessly about the work in the mines, noting that Bofur put in as many compliments to the miners of Erebor for creating such excellent mineshafts to begin with.</p><p>Thorin let the words rush over him.  If there was anything important, Bofur would tell him again.  Throughout the quest, Bofur had been a constant source of cheer, expert at talking around difficult topics and opening people up.  He would have been a masterful diplomat if he had any desire for politics.</p><p>“Oh, Bombur!” Bofur looked over Thorin’s shoulder.  “Are you here to knock some sense into these dwarves?  They have no respect for your architectural genius, I swear.”</p><p>“I’m here for the king, actually,” Bombur said in his soft voice.  “Your majesty?”</p><p>Thorin turned slightly to face Bombur.  So far, of all the dwarves in the company, Bombur looked the least damaged.  He had a thick wrap of bandages around one arm and faint bruises peeked out from underneath.  Despite the injuries, Bombur smiled.</p><p>“Gloin is waiting for you in the treasury,” Bombur said.  “He and Dain are trying to divide the wealth and need your help.”</p><p>Thorin froze.  It felt like the tunnel was closing in around him.  He clenched his hands into tight fists, trying to hide the shaking.  His mind was cast back to the last time he was in the treasury, wrapped up in ancient robes with a heavy crown upon his head, mindlessly digging for a useless artifact instead of taking care of his people.</p><p>“Thorin?”</p><p>Already, the call of gold whispered in his ear.  He still remembered the warm luster of the treasure, twinkling and shimmering in the light.  Part of him wanted to protest, to keep that gold locked away and hidden.  Had he not fought and bled for this gold?  Was that not his inheritance?  But as soon as the words entered his mind, Thorin fought back.</p><p>“Sire?”</p><p>He couldn’t go back to the treasury.  He wasn’t strong enough to look upon the gold without greed.  Even the mere thought of dividing up Thror’s treasure horde had Thorin bristling.  How much worse would it be if he saw it?  Thorin shook his head, as if he could banish the cobwebs of gold sickness from his mind.</p><p>“I can’t go,” Thorin said, his voice disjointed and foreign in his own ears.  “Ask for Fili.  He can help you.  I… I must go.”</p><p>Thorin pushed past Bombur, mind spinning.  He felt like he was at war with himself.</p><p>“But, your majesty, Dain has requested you,” Bombur said, dutifully following him.</p><p>“If I go into that treasury then I won’t be in my sound mind,” Thorin hissed.  “The gold still calls to me.  I trust Fili with the division of the gold but I do not trust myself in there.”  Thorin walked as fast as he could with his chest injury, trying to put as much space between him and everyone else in the mountain.  “Although…” he turned to look at Bombur.  “Tell this to Dain; give Thranduil the white gems he is owed and give Bard whatever he needs to rebuild Dale.  As for the members of the company, Gloin can consult with Balin on the specifics of the contract.”</p><p>“But… Thorin!”</p><p>Thorin was gone around the corner before Bombur could pull him back.</p><p> </p><p>It was midnight and Thorin was tired.  It had been nearly a week since he avoided the treasury and he had hardly left his room since.  He claimed it was still hard to breathe and he needed his rest, but he knew he couldn’t face his people knowing the gold sickness still ran through his blood.</p><p>It certainly didn’t help that, since the treasury incident, small piles of gold and gems started appearing in his bedroom.  Hardly enough to stoke the madness, but a tangible reminder of his failure.  Every morning, Thorin would gather the treasure and tuck it in a small chest underneath his bed.  Yet, no matter how much he gathered, more appeared the next morning.</p><p>There was only one person Thorin knew that could sneak into his chambers.</p><p>The door creaked open and a very familiar figure crept into his room.</p><p>“Still up to your old antics, eh, Nori?”</p><p>Nori paused before letting out a heavy sigh.  Thorin lit a candle and placed it on his bedside table, lighting the room in a soft, golden glow.  Nori’s hair was different, twisted around his head in a mess of braids similar to Dori’s.  He had an eye-patch over his left eye with a still healing scar cutting through from forehead down to his chin.  Nori carried a small bag in his hands.</p><p>“Would you believe me if I said Ori put me up to it?” Nori crossed the room and sat down next to Thorin’s bed.  “He thinks if you see the gold in small increments it’ll be easier to see the treasury.”</p><p>“And who did you steal from?” Thorin plucked the bag from Nori’s hand and opened it.  Sure enough, the bag was filled with gold.</p><p>“Technically, you,” Nori said.  “Even though stealing from the king is a capital offense, I’m hoping you’ll forgive me since I’m returning it to you.”</p><p>Thorin cinched the bag closed and pushed it back into Nori’s hands.  “I’m not going to be king.”</p><p>“Ah.  The others said you didn’t want to be king.  Didn’t believe them, to be honest.”</p><p>“It’s not about what I want,” Thorin said.  “I <em>want </em>to be king.  I thought I could do it.  I believed I could be a good king, Nori, but a good king doesn’t sacrifice lives for gold.  Even though the gold doesn’t call to me as strongly as it did before, it still has a hold on me.  How can I be king if I still suffer from the madness?”</p><p>Nori hummed.  “That’s a fair point, Thorin.  But you know we still believe in you, right?  Even when the sickness was at its worse, we still believed in you.  You’re our king, Thorin, always will be.  But… I understand.  Still hard to walk by fancy keepsakes and not pocket them for myself.  But I’m trying.  Usually take Dori and Ori along to keep me straight.”</p><p>Nori stood up and winced.  Thorin didn’t miss how Nori favored his right leg.  He set the bag of coins on Thorin’s bedside table.  Even with one eye, Nori managed to give Thorin a fond, respectful look.  Nori’s loyalty was hard won and Thorin didn’t want to lose it.</p><p>“The repairs are going to take a long time and we’re waiting for your sister to come back from Ered Luin before any coronation takes place.  You have time to sort yourself out, Thorin.”</p><p>Thorin blinked and Nori was at the door.</p><p>“Nori,” Thorin called to him.  Nori turned around.  “Thank you, for telling me.”</p><p>Nori gave him a cock-sure smile.  “It’s all about your intentions, your majesty.  You may suffer from the gold madness but you don’t have to be controlled by it.  Sleep well.”</p><p>Thorin blew out the candle and fell asleep staring at the small leather bag.</p><p> </p><p>Fili was grinning from ear to ear as he passed two letters to Thorin.  One was unmistakably from Thranduil, with his flowing script across the envelope.  The other, Thorin assumed, was from Bard, rough letters scrawled on the paper.</p><p>“They arrived this morning,” Fili announced.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I assume it has something to do with the gold and gems we sent their way.  Dain already has the formal letters, proclaiming alliance with the mountain once Erebor is restored, but these are personally addressed to you.”</p><p>Both letters were address to Thorin, King Under the Mountain.  He tore them both open and read them quickly.  The letters were both short and Thorin could see Fili holding himself back from wanting to read them over Thorin’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>To the King Under the Mountain,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I honor what I told you while in my kingdom.  I accept the return of these gems and, in return for your generosity, I will reinstate our alliance.  As one king to another, I await the return of your kingdom with anticipation.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thranduil</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Thorin,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Truly a kingly gift.  Bilbo had proclaimed your honor and nobility and it’s good to see you finally act as the dwarf king Dale expected.  I look forward to a long and prosperous alliance between us.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bard</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I told you they’d only ally to you as king,” Fili said smugly.  “Even after what happened, they know you’re the rightful king.”</p><p>Thorin tuned out the rest of Fili’s words, staring down at Bards’ letter.  Seeing Bilbo’s name sent something strange and fluttering through Thorin’s chest.  He hadn’t heard about Bilbo since he woke up.  He barely saw Bilbo at the end of the battle, didn’t have time to apologize for what he said, for what he did.</p><p>As if his name was a catalyst, all thoughts of Bilbo rushed through Thorin’s mind.  Thorin had been doing a great job repressing Bilbo in his waking thoughts (his dreams were usually gone by morning) but now he let the memories run through.  He remembered how Bilbo stood up for Thorin in Laketown.  He remembered the defiance in Bilbo’s eyes as he called Thorin out on the madness – the only one who wasn’t afraid.</p><p>Thorin still remembered almost throwing Bilbo from Erebor.  He remembered seeing him briefly on Raven Hill in the middle of the battle, barely enough time to feel relief before Bilbo was gone.  He remembered his eyes growing dim as blood seeped from the wound on his chest, the last image he saw was Bilbo’s worried face.</p><p>Of all the betrayals, Thorin’s betrayal to Bilbo was the worst.  He had taken Bilbo from his home, dragged him halfway across Middle-Earth, from danger to danger, and Bilbo was still loyal to Thorin.  Bilbo walked into the den of a dragon for Thorin and, when the madness was the strongest, Bilbo was the only one who Thorin saw clearly.  The only one who broke through the cloud of madness.</p><p>It was Bilbo’s voice that helped throw off the sickness.  Without him, Thorin would never be free of the gold.  Yet it had been weeks since the battle and Thorin hadn’t seen or heard Bilbo.  Not even Bofur, who was Bilbo’s closest friend, mentioned Bilbo.</p><p>“Fili,” Thorin’s voice was thick.  “Fili… where’s Bilbo?”</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Missing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Thorin, you can’t lock yourself in there forever!”</p><p>“It’s not your fault!”</p><p>“He’s not mad at you.”</p><p>“Please, Thorin…”</p><p>Thorin didn’t listen.  His mind kept replaying what Fili had told him.</p><p>
  <em>Bilbo went back home, Uncle.</em>
</p><p>It was his fault.  Thorin knew this.  It didn’t matter what the others said – Thorin pushed Bilbo away, quite literally.  He didn’t even have the chance to apologize, not really.  Bilbo had every right to leave Erebor, to go back home where he belonged.  Thorin had just hoped he could mend their friendship first.</p><p>And now there was no chance, no opportunity for Thorin to apologize, to reaffirm Bilbo’s place in the company.  He never got to tell Bilbo how much his faith meant, how much Thorin had relied on him.  Bilbo will never know how much Thorin needed him.</p><p>Outside his door, the company shouted at Thorin but he tuned out their voices.  Thorin slouched in his armchair, staring at the barest embers in the fireplace.  It was lucky the royal chambers were far enough away from the treasury to avoid the worst of Smaug’s damage and, other than the dust and disuse, Thorin’s room was just as it had been.</p><p>He had given his company rooms near the royal chambers, which seemed appropriate considering all they’d done.  Now, however, with all twelve of them clambering at his door, it seemed like just a nuisance.</p><p>“He said he’d come back!”</p><p>Ori’s voice broke through the cacophony of voices and Thorin sat up straight.  Almost as if the others knew, they all quieted down and let Ori continue talking.</p><p>“Bilbo said he had to settle his affairs back home but then he’d be back,” Ori continued in his sweet voice.  “You didn’t really think he’d leave you like that, did you?”</p><p>But Thorin did think that.  Bilbo had every right to leave Thorin as he did – Thorin would have.  Who was to say Bilbo was coming back at all?  It was likely just a lie to appease the other dwarves, to keep them from following Bilbo back to the Shire.  There was nothing left for Bilbo in Erebor except for disappoint and bad memories.</p><p>There was whispering behind the door and the sound of retreating footsteps.  Thorin slumped in his chair, staring into the fireplace.  The door opened and Thorin didn’t bother moving.</p><p>“Sire?”</p><p>It was Gloin’s voice.  Thorin slowly spun around and saw Gloin and Bifur standing hesitantly in the doorway.  Thorin gave a cordial nod and the two entered the room fully.  They dragged over a couple of chairs and sat beside Thorin in front of the fireplace.  Bifur pulled out a small piece of wood and started whittling.  Gloin sat still for about ten seconds before huffing to himself and rebuilding the fire.</p><p>The warmth of the fire washed over Thorin and he didn’t realize how cold his chambers had become.  He stretched out his legs, warming his feet by the fireplace.  Satisfied with his work, Gloin sat back down.</p><p>It was peaceful, the sound of a crackling fire and Bifur’s absent humming as he worked.  It reminded Thorin of simpler times, fresh from the Shire when there was no danger on the road.</p><p>“Did I ever tell you how I met my wife?” Gloin said softly, his voice barely breaking the tender silence between them.  “I was distracted with my jeweling apprenticeship.  I was working on my journeyman piece and couldn’t think straight.  I had become obsessed with the pattern of gold and silver around precious gems.  I knew it had to be perfect and I lost sight of everything except for my work.</p><p>“And then she showed up in the forges, bright as mithril and twice as strong.  She sat down next to my forge and started talking to me and, for the first time in years, I saw beyond my craft.  For a long time, I thought she was the thing that broke through my single-mindedness.  I thought if I kept her close, she would keep me from losing myself again.”</p><p>“Did it work?” Thorin asked.</p><p>“Yes, but not the way you think,” Gloin said.  “It wasn’t her – it was never her.  It was me; my love for her is what broke through my fog.”</p><p>“What are you saying?”</p><p>“I’m saying, Bilbo isn’t going to fix your problems.” Gloin put a hand on Thorin’s arm.  “You are.  You may love Bilbo but it’s not him that breaks through the madness, it’s the love you have for him.”</p><p>Thorin didn’t know what to say.  Bifur grunted in agreement and placed something in Thorin’s hand.  It was wood, warmed from Bifur’s handling and smooth to the touch.  With his head still spinning from Gloin’s blatant declaration, Thorin looked down at his hand.</p><p>Resting gently in his palm was a carved acorn.  The cap of the acorn resembled a crown (his crown) and, as Thorin lifted it to get a closer look, there was the smallest engraving around the acorn.  Thorin’s throat suddenly felt tight and he rubbed at his eyes.</p><p>Bifur and Gloin patted him on the shoulder and silently left.  As the door shut, Thorin allowed the tears to slip down his face.  He ran his thumb across the engraving like a worry-stone.</p><p>
  <em>To King Thorin Oakenshield: Even the strongest oak started as an acorn.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Days passed and Thorin continued walking around the mountain whenever he had the energy.  His injury had healed quite nicely and Oin told him about how Fili and Kili saved his life and how Gandalf managed to heal him.  The rest of the company refused to let Thorin spend too much time on his own and he shared dinner with various members.</p><p>It was nice, Thorin realized, sitting with his company and enjoying a meal.  He found himself laughing with Bofur and Nori and playing chaperone with Dori to Dwalin and Ori.  Even having dinner with Balin, Fili and Kili avoided talks of Erebor and, instead, reminisced on their adventure to Erebor.</p><p>Wisely, no one ever brought up Bilbo.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Reunited</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, Thorin.”</p><p>The voice was so familiar.  Rounded around the edges, tender but firm with just the hint of disappointment.  Thorin had heard this voice scolding after his nephews and laughing with Bofur.  He’d heard the steel hidden beneath the dulcet tones – a reminder of how strong the voice could be.</p><p>Half asleep, half awake, Thorin hummed and sank deeper into his bed.  Half remembered dreams floated through his mind.  Golden curls in sunlight.  A smile that lit up the room.  The sarcastic tilt of an eyebrow and sardonic sneer.  The simple courage to walk into a dragon’s den.</p><p>“Thorin, it’s time to wake up.”</p><p>The fierce look in bright blue eyes.  The apology hanging from Thorin’s lips.  The courage to stand up against Thorin – to choose the right thing.</p><p>“Thorin.”</p><p>Like pulling himself from molasses, Thorin forced himself awake.  He blinked slowly, eyes unfocused as the last tendrils of his half-dream state faded away like mist in the sunlight.  His chambers were warm, a fire crackling merrily in the fireplace.  Sitting beside his bed, with a fond smile and tender eyes, was –</p><p>“Bilbo,” Thorin whispered.</p><p>“Good morning, Thorin,” Bilbo said.</p><p>Thorin scrambled to sit up in bed.  “What, but… how?”</p><p>“I always planned on coming back,” Bilbo said.  “Didn’t the others tell you?  I just had to settle my affairs back home first.”</p><p>“They told me,” Thorin spoke mechanically, hardly believing Bilbo was sitting in his chambers, at his bedside no less!  The hobbit looked just as good as Thorin remembered, better even, his small injuries healed up and Thorin took several seconds to stare at Bilbo’s face, rememorizing his features.</p><p>His face was leaner than when they first left Bag End and there was the beginnings of muscle on his lithe frame.  Still, he was the same plump hobbit that Thorin remembered, with the firm steel in his blue eyes and dimples on his cheeks.  His clothes were clean and fine, clearly of Dale make, and they fitted Bilbo well.</p><p>Understanding spread across Bilbo’s face and his smile dimmed slightly.  “You, ah, didn’t believe them, did you?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t have blamed you,” Thorin said earnestly.  “You have every right to hate me, after all I did.”</p><p>“While under the influence of the gold sickness,” Bilbo added on.  “Thorin, I would never hold that against you.  You were not yourself when you made those threats – I don’t count them against your person.”</p><p>The weight of guilt lifted off Thorin’s chest and he hesitantly returned Bilbo’s smile.</p><p>“Now, what’s this I hear about you refusing your kingdom?” Bilbo stood up and bustled around the room.  He brought over a breakfast tray and set it on Thorin’s lap before rummaging through the wardrobe.  “I thought we had risked life and limb to restore your kingship, why are you turning away from it now that you have it?”</p><p>Thorin looked down at his breakfast tray and felt something warm inside his chest.  This was not the standard breakfast Fili or Kili brought up to him.  This tray had Bilbo’s favorite tea and a small, warm loaf of bread with jam and butter on the side.  There was a healthy helping of bacon and sausage and eggs cooked just the way Thorin liked it.</p><p>“Did you make this?” Thorin interrupted Bilbo’s tirade.</p><p>Bilbo spun around sharply, his arms full of Thorin’s clothes.  “And if I did?”</p><p>“It looks delicious.”</p><p>Bilbo’s ears went red and he turned back around.  “Well, as I was saying, what’s the point of walking halfway across Middle-Earth to reclaim Erebor from a dragon if you won’t even take the throne?”</p><p>“I can’t,” Thorin said simply as he dug into his breakfast.  “After what the gold did to me.  After what I did to you… to my nephews, to Dain and his dwarves.  It wouldn’t be right.”</p><p>Bilbo scoffed.  “Is that what you believe?  That your one mistake keeps you from the throne?  Thorin, it’s our choices that determine who we are and you chose to be free of the gold.  You made the choice to fight against the monsters in your head.  You made the choice to repair your alliance with both Bard and Thranduil.  You made the choice to reclaim your crown so why don’t you take it?”</p><p>Bilbo had laid out Thorin’s clothes for him and sat down beside the bed.  The hobbit was fierce, he was always fierce, and there was the stubbornness in his eyes that Thorin recognized.  It was that same fierce look when Bilbo stood between Thorin and Azog, when he alone searched for the hidden door, when he stood up to Thorin’s madness.</p><p>He was beautiful, Thorin realized.</p><p>“You’re in control, Thorin,” Bilbo said softly.  “There is nothing to be gained from your misery here.  You need to put your faults behind you and take up your crown.  You can be king again.”</p><p>“Only if you stay,” Thorin said.  “Stay here, with me, rule by my side.  I cannot do this without you.”</p><p>Bilbo smiled cheekily.  “Thorin, why do you think I came back?”</p><p>And he leaned over the breakfast tray and kissed Thorin.</p>
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